


Unsportsmanlike Conduct

by threeminutesoflife



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dark!Steve Rogers - Freeform, F/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Pollen, Unprotected Sex, dark!bucky barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:49:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22857517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threeminutesoflife/pseuds/threeminutesoflife
Summary: Bucky’s tired of waiting for the shy Reader to admit her feelings for him.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 73





	Unsportsmanlike Conduct

“Grab my wiener,” the deep voice to your right stated evenly.  
Coughing into your drink, your eyes bulged at his words. Clearing your throat you tried to find your bearings as the crowd cheered around you both. _Why were they encouraging him?_  
“Wha-what?” meekly asking, too embarrassed to look him in the eye as you wiped away the splashed liquid off your lap.  
“Put your hands around it.” You could practically hear the smirk in his voice, “The hot dog. Pass it to me, please.”  
The crowd jumped and cheered out of their seats shadowing you both as the team took first, then second, third, and home.  
Taking a moment to close your eyes and will away your discomfort, the crowd settled down while the next batter made his way to the mound. You turned toward the aisle way and held out your hand to become the next boxcar in the makeshift stadium food train. Before you could turn back around to Bucky and hand him his order, you felt the warmth of his breath and his double entendre slap against your cheek, “Hold out your hand for Steve’s wiener too, doll.”  
You sat up even straighter and abruptly pushed the hot dog and the next one into Bucky’s chest, not concerned if you stained his shirt with the relish and mustard.  
“Oh, oh, oh! Easy there, darlin’. You’re making my dribble out between those buns. No one wants a premature dribble.”  
Snapping your neck towards Bucky’s leering grin, you saw Steve chuckle and wink at you right as he bit into his hot dog and lean back to enjoy the next inning. Frowning at being the constant joke between Steve and Bucky, you turned back to face the field. Mustering some courage you asked without looking, “Why do you say those things?”  
“What do you mean, darling? You almost caused the mustard to get on my shirt.”  
A hurt and confused expression stamped across his face, when you finally peeked in his direction. _Hurt and confused_, you scoffed internally.  
Flustered and annoyed, you cursed your seating numbers. What were the chances Bucky and Steve would be in the same row let alone the same section? Especially with the number of tickets Mr. Stark purchased for his employees. Out of anyone in the company, how your ticket ended sequencing up to Bucky’s, the silver-tongued thorn in your side, you’d never know. But bottom line, this was a numerical nightmare.  
The promise of a fun day at the ball game curdled quickly after seeing Bucky and Steve limber down your row to the unclaimed seats next to you. After seeing them exit their private vehicle when the department’s travel bus pulled up to the stadium, you sent out an unanswered prayer that they wouldn’t be in your section.  
After shopping for souvenirs and settling in your seat, you assumed you were in the clear. Besides, what were the chances an Avenger’s ticket would be mixed in with other Stark Industries departments? Not possible, you reassured yourself. But that reassurance and your relaxation were short-lived, and then dead, when you saw the pair again.  
Bucky knew you were festering with irritation, your body giving away little tells on how he always flustered you even when you tried hiding it. Snapping into the skin of the stadium hot dog, his mind drifted on how you would taste even better. Bucky never one to bite off more than he could chew, planned to savor you.  
Trying to salvage the remainder of the game, you turned to your other side and quietly asked your coworker if he would switch seats. Unfortunately, he was mid-conversation and didn’t hear you. Not wanting to repeat yourself, you figured you could walk around until the game ended. It would be five more innings, but you needed room to breath. Your attraction for Bucky always muddled your head and your shyness always caused you to freeze when he flirted.  
Bucky’s eyes narrowed at you over the rim of his beer, waiting to see what your next move would be after your hushed request was unheard.  
The familiar feeling of being watched fanned across the back of your neck. He could make you feel so damn uneasy and unsure of yourself at times; too handsome, too skilled. His presence too domineering and your attraction for him too confusing.  
Bucky acted like a gentleman during your first interactions, when he dropped off pieces of confiscated evidence to be tagged and stored for Dr. Banner to examine later. His innocent compliments made you half-smile and hide your face, rolling out a shy thank you. Bucky didn’t return to the department until a few weeks later when those pieces were needed but appeared to be missing.  
You weren’t sure how it happened, maybe you weren’t paying enough attention in cataloging the items when Bucky introduced himself and started flirting? But the damage was done and your worry spiked as you realized the evidence was not stored where it was listed in the system. Luckily, Bucky volunteered to help you look. After several hours of searching different warehouses, the outcome became successful when Bucky located the pieces.  
But since that day, things changed between you and Bucky. His compliments were said in a deeper tone and a huskier voice. His jokes became too brazen for someone as shy as you, especially when the lines were draped in double-meanings. When people were in close proximity, Bucky was polite but just enough. And it was him knowing the exact measurement of just enough that made you hesitant.  
Steve didn’t help matters, not for you at least. He always provided a source of encouragement for Bucky’s too strongly brewed lines. He was another handsome Avenger, who left an uneasy and confusing affect on you. Steve “the Masterpiece” Rogers, a face of selflessness and poster child of good deeds, was a piece commissioned in lead paint.  
Not wanting to repeat your seat switch request, you grabbed your souvenir bag and jacket. But before you could pick up your cup, Bucky reached out and covered your hand tightly.  
“No.”  
Looking down, you saw the metal of his arm shine against your skin. When you tried tugging it free, he responded by pulling your hand closer onto his thigh. Bucky said your name with a tone full of warning, “Don’t make me tell you again.”  
Your eyes darted around looking in vain to catch someone’s attention, but the crowd was either too involved in the game or their conversations to ever notice a single rabbit caught in a snare.  
“Sit back, relax,” Bucky dictated as he took your jacket off your lap and draped it over his to cover your joined hands. The material of the jacket twisted and peaked from Bucky threading his fingers with yours. “It’s important to pay attention. I know you struggle with it, the evidence speaks for itself, doesn’t it? But you need to, darlin’. Especially sitting in these seats. Big balls could rub your lips at any moment.”  
Your back remained rod straight causing him to sigh in annoyance at the tension in your body, “Always so shy. Fine, I’ll let you hide this time. Get the baseball hat out of your bag, put it on.”  
That snapped you out of your tension-haze. Quickly turning to him, “How did you know I hav-”  
“Get it.” Bucky squeezed your hand, cementing his directions.  
Wide-eyed and nervous you noticed Steve grinning and watching your reactions to Bucky’s commands before he settled back in the seat to continue cheering for the team. Shaking your head, it sounded like his cheers were for Bucky- praising him instead of the home team.  
With jerky movements, you pulled out the new hat and placed it on your head. Now feeling stupid for asking Bucky how he knew you had it, you pulled the brim down further than necessary trying to shut out your surroundings. You may have only seen them after arriving to the stadium and then not again until they paraded down your row to sit, but that certainly didn’t mean they couldn’t see you.  
Bucky chuckled at your appearance, “Want to take the tags off at least?”  
You only responded by shaking your head “no” fervently.  
“Fine. Now, sit back and relax,” rubbing circles into your hand with his thumb.  
Stiffly leaning back and sliding slightly down in your seat, “Why are you being like this?”  
“Because I’m tired, darlin’.”  
You felt him move your hands slowly down along the top of his thigh, the side of your hand rubbing against denim, coming closer to his crotch. The material of your jacket tented a trail.  
Your voice cracked quietly in question, “What do you, what do you mean?”  
This was wrong. You were in a crowded stadium with a man who made you nervous for months because of his flirting and reminders about the mislabeled equipment, and yet, he continued to turn you on.  
Bucky tilted his head to you, calmly confessing, “Tired of waiting to get you where you belong. We’ll start slow, I’ll let you marinate in your feelings. But things are what they are.”  
_A stadium of people and was no one else hearing this?_ You frowned at his words and from the confusion swirling in your panties.  
“And the way things are? That’s simple.” The seat’s armrest groaned when he leaned into your shoulder and slid your joined hands over his erection, “You’re mine.”  
Biting your lip, you tried to concentrate on what was going on in your head. He always overwhelmed you, and now, your wet panties were proof of that, too.  
Bucky inhaled sharply and whispered under his breath, “Let you marinate in the sweet, wet nectar between your legs.”  
“Did you just smel-” Squeaking out part of your question only to be cut off by Bucky’s hand unlatching from yours harshly and swiftly moving it out from under your jacket. Raising his metal hand, he caught the foul ball inches from your face.  
A rampage of gasps, shocked phrases and praises flooded your section. Looking over the rim of his sunglasses, Steve took in the crowd’s reaction to Bucky’s heroic save.  
“That’s going to be on the news,” Steve commented as he pushed his sunglasses back into place and settled back into his seat to watch the replay of Bucky protecting you on the scoreboard. “Good thing he was there for you, sweetheart.”  
Stunned and awed, you watched the plates on Bucky’s forearm shift.  
“What did I tell you about paying attention?” Bucky asked as he pulled your gaze back to him.  
“Tha-thank you, that was- it was, so close. Just…” You sputtered out before taking a breath, “Thank you.”  
Your coworker grabbed your shoulder and called out your name, “Are you alright?”  
Before you could answer Bucky spoke harshly, dropping the ball in your lap and putting his hand over your knee, “She’s fine.”  
You could hear Steve chortle and make a snide comment about something being interesting, but you weren’t sure what he was talking about until you looked past their shoulders.  
Steve jerked his head and pointed at scoreboard, “Choose wisely.”  
There on the big screen was a shot of your coworker with his hand on your shoulder and Bucky with his hand on your knee. Large block lettering spelled out, “Kiss Cam.”  
The camera focused on the baseball resting in your lap and Bucky’s metal hand claiming your knee. The cameraman left your coworker out of the frame entirely. Their message of who they wanted you to kiss was clear with the subtle cropping. The audience was in agreement as they started clapping and chanting, “Kiss.Kiss.Kiss,” while the camera repeatedly zoomed in and out on you and Bucky.  
Taking your hand in his, Bucky raised your arm and kissed the inside of your wrist causing the audience to collectively sigh at his action. You sat there, stunned and unable to speak. Thankful that he saved you from the foul ball and from being too shy to kiss on national television. The crowd now full from what they were hungry for turned their attention elsewhere.  
Bucky moved your joined hands in front your faces, blocking any lingering cameras so he could speak. His eyes dilated as he promised slowly, “We’ll continue this later. See you at practice.”  
Dropping your hand, Bucky and Steve stood up and started moving toward the aisle way.  
Snapping out of your stunned state you called out after them, “Practice? What do you mean?”  
Bucky didn’t turn around, he continued to make his way out but Steve turned around for a brief moment to raise his sunglasses and shoot you a wink.  
Slumping back in your seat now more confused by Bucky’s words and your attraction to him, you turned to your coworker, “You know anything about a practice?”  
He only shrugged with a smile and offered some cotton candy. Thanking him and taking a piece, you sighed and looked at the scoreboard. Two more innings to go and a bus ride back. Grumbling and wiping your wrist against your thigh, you could still feel Bucky’s lips on your wrist. The thought of his erection under your hand made your stomach flip as you wiped your hand harder and tried to erase the warmth.  
Your cell phone went off alerting you to an email from the PR Department. Opening the attachment, a form appeared thanking and congratulating you for signing up and being chosen to participate in this year’s company charity softball game.  
“What the fuck?” you huffed to no one in particular.  
“What’s wrong?” asked your coworker.  
“Ahh, one sec.” You continued to read the letter on how Mr. Stark thanked everyone who volunteered to be selected to play. He will be gifting practice and game jerseys, along with personalized Stark Industries items. Food and games will also be provided along with other prizes that day, so please invite family and friends.  
_What is going on? I didn’t sign up for anything._ Scrolling past the location directions, you saw the part about one mandatory practice dated next month and a list of teams. Teams drawn randomly from the volunteers based on employee numbers.  
_No, please no_. But just like earlier today, your pleading was ignored. There on the list was your name, sandwiched right in between Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers.  
The feeling of being overwhelmed was hitting you hard day. First, there was always the reminder of Bucky holding the mislabeled equipment over your head as he tossed pickup lines around. Second, your ridiculous attraction to someone who could blackmail. Third, almost being knocked unconscious. Fourth, your shyness and a Kiss Cam were a terrible combination. And now, this- a work charity event with the two super soldiers.  
Turning to your coworker and shoving your phone in his face, “I didn’t sign up for this! Why would I get this?!”  
He looked at you wide-eyed, crazy written all over your features, as he gingerly took the phone out of your hands to read the offending news.  
“If you didn’t sign up, I don’t know how you’re listed for it, but I wouldn’t back out of it. Especially, if Mr. Stark thanked everyone by getting the merch personalized. But hey, looks like you’re in good company though- Roger and Barnes are on your team.”  
Your only response was a whimpered scoff when your coworker handed the phone back.  
Another email from the PR Department flashed on screen, this time only addressed to you and Bucky. They saw the clip of him catching the baseball before it hit you and inquired if you were all right. They always wanted to know if you’d be interested in donating the ball and asked if Bucky was willing to sign it. Something about adding it to the silent auction at the charity game.  
Sliding as far down as possible in the seat, you roughly pulled the bill of the cap over your eyes. _Where’s a foul ball when I need one now?_  
So far, you’ve been lucky at today’s mandatory practice and were able to avoid Bucky and Steve for the most part. You only had group interactions with Steve. His voice sounded across the field to call out tips and drills to the team. You spoke to Bucky one time, when he walked out on the field with a cooler and passed out cold sports drinks in the team’s personalized water bottles.  
Bucky greeted you as you took the bottle from him, “Drink it up, darlin’. Has all the good stuff that’s needed for later.” He gave you a lopsided grin that caught you off guard from its cuteness.  
You haven’t seen Bucky since the baseball game several weeks ago. With him standing in front of you now acting polite with what you felt were no hidden meanings to his words, you tried to convince yourself that maybe if you push down the confusion of what happened at the game things could remain civil. It would make it easier at work and you don’t see him often.  
Thanking him for the refreshment, you stepped away so he could move on to the next teammate. Bucky nodded and took a step, only to spin back around to you. “Oh, I forgot. I heard you forgot yours and had to borrow a mitt earlier. Keep this one, it’s an old one of mine. It’s broken in, better.”  
Juggling the borrowed mitt and bottle in your hands, you tried to politely refuse Bucky’s gift.  
“Nah, go on and take it, darlin’. It’d make me feel better. You know, in case you go to any baseball games without me and sit in a dangerous section again.”  
This was a nice side to Bucky, one coming across as quite endearing. Maybe this clean slate idea would work? Freeing your hand, you accepted his mitt, “…Well, you sure.?”  
“I am. Here let me take the other one from you.”  
“That’s really thoughtful of you, I’ll return yours after the charity game.”  
“No need. I like knowing you’ll have something to catch those balls with, besides your mouth.”  
Frowning, you tried to ignore his joke as you raised the mitt to signal a disgruntled thanks. Maybe this wouldn’t work out like you naively hoped.  
With each step back to your outfield position, you had a conference with yourself. You’d stop being so sensitive and reacting to Bucky’s wording. Stop acting so flustered and be more confident. Does he mean to say things inappropriately? Don’t be stupid, of course he knows how he’s saying things.  
“Good practice, everyone!” Steve called out across the field. “Remember, the game’s this Sunday and our team takes the field at 11am. Warm up’s a half hour before. Go enjoy your evening!”  
Scanning the field, you pushed your hat back when you heard everyone stampeding to leave.  
_Shit, why can’t I pay better attention?_ Picking up the gifted water bottle, you started jogging to the home plate. You saw Steve at second base talking to a coworker and hoped to mix in with the departing crowd before he noticed you. Bucky was exhausting enough without having to deal with his henchman.  
Scurrying up behind a couple people, you peeked over to second base again. Unfortunately locking eyes with Steve this time as he crossed his arms over his chest and smiled.  
_His smile looked so inviting_. Wait-what? Vigorously shaking the foreign thought from your head and wiping your brow, where the hell did that come from?  
Feeling the urge to look back over at Steve, his smile seemed to morph into a smirk as he broke his gaze from you to check his watch and pick up his things.  
“Where are you sneaking off to, darlin’?”  
The sound of that voice caused your legs to slow. You automatically knew that question was addressed to you, but wondered what direction the question heralded from. _I could keep walking, even make a scene if I need to grab someone’s attention. Or do I stop letting him fluster me all the time? Do I face this attraction?_  
Hearing your name called, you saw him now. Standing at the opening above the dugout steps, Bucky quirked an eyebrow assessing you. “Could use a hand, want to help your team?”  
Cautiously stepping forward but then stopping, you tried to pay attention to your surroundings. The last clump of people made their way to the parking lot, excited to get on with their evening plans. You could call out to them or scurry away if you wanted but instead you straightened your shoulders and stepped forward to him. All the while, biting the side of your lower lip.  
Bucky smirked at the sight of you overcoming your hesitation, “Good girl.” Making his way far back into the dugout, he left you to follow him at your own pace.  
You found Bucky sitting on the dugout’s bench, legs open and stretched before him. “What did you need help with?” you asked.  
“How’d the mitt work out for you, darlin’?”  
“It’s good, thank you.”  
Bucky bit his lip around your words, “It’s nice to hear you thank me. Gonna get you to do that more often.”  
You looked out onto the field, shuffling your feet in the dirt. Unsure if this was a good idea or not, you took another sip of your water bottle. The weather had started turning hot even with the evening approaching.  
“Have a seat with me, darlin’. Enjoy your drink.”  
“Is there something you need help with for the game? Because- I mean, if not, I’ll get going.”  
“You know,” Bucky brought his knees up and leaned forward to rest his elbows on the tops of his thighs, “I oiled that mitt for you. Thought about you when massaging the oil around. Rubbed it in, real good. Made sure to pay attention to the details and spent time circling my thumb around. Really worked that oil in. Could you feel it, the difference with mine? When you stroked your hand over it, gripped it?”  
You quickly realized you were in way over your head as he smirked and drew out his double-laced questions. You were being rapidly turned on. Taking a step back, you tried to remain claim and sure of yourself in front of him. Bucky noticed your shift in weight and slight retreat as he ran his tongue over his lips and ran his eyes over you.  
Finding your voice and tapering down your desire, “Why are you always so inappropriate with me?”  
“Because you’re not being appropriate with me,” he countered, staring you down sternly.  
Shifting uncomfortably, “How? I hardly talk to you!”  
“There you go, darlin’. Finally, laying out the pieces of the puzzle. Now, put them together.”  
Pulling at the collar of your jersey and trying to loosen its hold around your neck, “What are you talking about, Bucky?”  
Bucky stepped closer to you, steadily subtracting any distance between you two. You reminded yourself to remain confident and not to take a step back, determined not to cower and shy away like you usually do. God, why were you so hot? You started running your hand along the back of your neck.  
“James.”  
You weren’t sure if you heard him right as you repeatedly pulled at your collar, hoping to move around the stale, suffocating air. “What?”  
“My friends call me, Bucky. You, darlin’, are not my friend.”  
The toes of Bucky’s shoes practically touched yours. When did he get so close? You were losing personal space quicker than you realized. Bucky smirked at you before confessing to the shell of your ear, “You’re more than that to me.”  
Slowing your fanning movements at his words, you tried to register what he meant.  
Bucky loosened your fingers from your collar and took your hand in his. Rubbing his thumb like he did at the baseball game, “You and I are going to be closer than friends. More intimate. From now on, I’m James to you.”  
Fuck, you rubbed your thighs together at his words. Intimate with James, intimate with Bucky, intimate with the Winter Soldier- the words bounced around in your mind. Your stomach twisted and you rubbed your thighs together again. What you wouldn’t give to find more friction.  
“I’m tired of waiting. Wake up already- you need me. The soft looks and innocent act was nice, but you need to step up and open those legs for me like they should be.”  
The anger and the outrage had finally started to boil and churn inside of you, “What the hell do you-?”  
But before you could have your moment of empowerment, your stomach lurked and knotted in on itself causing you to grab the fence and gasp against on it.  
Bucky crowded your field of vision and brought his fingers up to your face. Flicking the bill of your cap off your head, “Stop hiding.”  
“Grab the fence, arms up.” Bucky huskily instructed, stepping in between your legs.  
“What, why? I think, I think I need a doctor,” circling your arms around your stomach, “hurts so much.”  
Not answering your worries, Bucky dropped his hand between your legs and rubbed your clothed mound. Chucking darkly, “Fuck darlin’, you’re more than ready. Fucking drenched.”  
Mouth open and moaning loudly, you threw your head back and closed your eyes as a ramble of sounds poured out of you. But just as quick as the pleasure started, it stopped when Bucky stepped away from you. Confusion set in your expression and you were about to ask why he stopped when another shock of pain twisted inside.  
“Buc-James, help.”  
“Take your clothes off, all of them.”  
Shaking your head to his demand, Bucky stepped up to you again and ran his hands over your breasts. Purring at his touch, you noticed the pain in your stomach slightly dulled.  
“Take your clothes off, all of them,” Bucky whispered and licked the shell of your ear.  
Eager for more, you stripped no longer hesitating.  
_If he could make me feel this good with just once touch_… with no longer overthinking, you looped your fingers through the fence. You grabbed it tightly and squeaked in surprise when Bucky swiftly snatched yours hips up and lifted your legs. He stretched out your body above the sandy ground as you kicked your legs around him in surprise, only catching your breath when you were able to lock your legs low around his waist.  
Bucky chuckled at your shock as he rubbed his erection against your mound. You weren’t sure when he freed himself, too preoccupied with feeling him grind into you hungrily.  
“Fuck B-James.”  
“That’s it darlin’, just let go.”  
He dipped into you slowly, only to pull back out of you completely. He repeated this teasing again, enjoying how your muscles held and pulsed around him.  
“Are you hungry, darlin? Fuckin’ starvin’ for me to fill that sweet pussy?” Sliding himself fully into you again.  
You bite your lip, embarrassed on how wet and heated he made you.  
Snapping his hips into you and shaking you back against the fence, “Answer me. Say it. Say you’re mine.” Sliding in and out of you faster. Grinding harder and calling out your name, “Fucking say it.”  
Over moans and under heavy curses you screamed out, “Yes! James! Want you so much.”  
That was all Bucky needed to hear, his metal fingers graded through the links as he used it to jerkily pull himself quicker into you. Thrusting and splitting your tight pussy wide open, he greedily pumped into you as the metal of his hand and the metal of the fence clinged and clanged together in a speedy melody. The chain links mimicked their pattern onto the skin of your back, bruised diamonds.  
He moved both of his hands to wrap around your bottom, cradling your ass and squeezing your cheeks randomly. The teeth of his zipper dug into your thighs as one of your feet became caught in his pants. Using the material as leverage, you pushed and raised yourself up to meet his connection again and again. Your arms held the fence above your head, biceps slightly burning while the chain links dug into your fingers.  
Bouncing against the fence, you whined a blessed out chant, “fuckfuckfuckJames. Fuck.. feels so'fucking good.”  
Your incoherent praises spurred him on further, faster. Bucky growled in the crook of your neck and sucked a trail down your skin harder. Reds and purples bloomed under his heated lips as you came undone around him.  
Pleased with your words, he slipped out of you and spun you around. Pushing your tits up against the fence, he kicked your feet apart and rammed his cock into you. The fence scratched your cheek as his right forearm pressed against the back of your neck. You know you’ll have a diamond mark on the side of your face after this. He railed into you as your breasts smashed against the links; flesh and nipples scrapped and pinched by the braiding on the fence. His metal hand blanketed over yours as pulled himself deeper into your cunt by using the fence.  
You cum on his cock, fluttering and clenching him so well he almost cums right there. Slipping out of your convulsing pussy, he pumps his cock over your ass with his flesh hand. At the last moment, Bucky sandwiches his dick between your ass cheeks and ruts against you. Releasing himself over you, he moaned over his heavy breathing and rocked back and forth on his heels.  
“Look at me, dribbling out between your buns,” smacking your ass for emphasis, “turn around.”  
With a shaky shuffle you face him, wounded and spent. Hesitantly, you raise your hand to your cheek.  
“No,” Bucky covers your hand and leans smugly into you, “Won’t let you cover those marks like you can on your back.”  
You close your eyes when you feel Bucky run his tongue along your welted cheek. He makes his way to your lips and devours your mouth, only to pull back and bite your bottom lip while staring into your eyes.  
“Fuck. You look so good, darlin’. Just missing one thing.” Bending at the waist, Bucky spits on your cunt. Rubbing his metal thumb over your clit, he massages in his spit.  
The sensation drives a gasp out of you and your hands shoot out to grab the fence again as your feet go up on tiptoes.  
“Perfect,” Bucky declares. “You’re up, Stevie.”  
Taken back by the mention of another name, you frantically search around you both. Over Bucky’s shoulder, you see Steve leaning against the dugout’s post, leering. Pants open and part of his erection showing. How long has he been here?  
“You want top of the first, Stevie?” Bucky smirks and slaps your pussy causing you to shoot back up on your tiptoes and knock your ass into the fence again. The links shaking out the familiar rattling sound.  
Hopping down the dugout steps, Steve’s heavy footsteps echo in your ears. Without saying a word, he grabs your face and takes you in for a rough kiss, forcing his tongue between your lips. Steve catches your top lip between his teeth and bites hard into your cupid’s bow. You let out a whimper when he tugs you closer by only using his teeth around your lip.  
The thought of him watching when Bucky manhandled you just moments before shoots a rush of excitement through you. Letting out a soft groan and rubbing your thighs together, you start to wonder how different or alike Steve and Bucky are.  
You’re growing desperate again; craving more, needing more.  
Steve moans into your mouth as he gathers you in for another kiss, drawing your attention back. This time the kiss feels more gentle, more promising. He gracefully moves his calloused hands past your shoulders and down your chest. Taking time to trace his thumbs over your breasts and circle your nipples. His hands make you feel safe, cherished and you gift him with soft mewls for his actions.  
Steve smirks at your face, triumph across his. Your eyes are heavy and half-closed. Lips red and puffy, marked on the top and bottom from him and Bucky; ready to be kissed again.  
Steve drops his hands to your ass, and runs his large hands through Bucky’s cum. Wedging his long fingers between your ass cheeks, Steve grabs a handful in each palm and squeezes. “I’m going for bottom of the ninth.”


End file.
